


Sojourn in Sendai

by Crollalanza



Series: The AtsuHina Royalty/Journalist AU series [3]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Journalism, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Bad guys, M/M, On the Run, side ship SunaOsa
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-15 00:21:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29800122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crollalanza/pseuds/Crollalanza
Summary: Investigating a story into government corruption, Miya Atsumu is forced into hiding after his journalist partner, Suna Rintarou and brother Osamu are hospitalised following a hit and run.Ojiro Aran tells him to trust no one, but when Sunshine Prince Shouyou calls he takes a chance. For if he can't trust 'Shrimpo' he figures he might as well give up.Taken to a hideout in Sendai, he has to not only plan what to do next but also prove his innocence.
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou/Miya Atsumu
Series: The AtsuHina Royalty/Journalist AU series [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2190399
Comments: 8
Kudos: 41





	1. The Agent

**Author's Note:**

> It will help if you read Hyogo Holiday and The Happy Place, but here's a quick recap ...
> 
> [Narrator's Voice] Previously in Hyogo Holiday: Miya Atsumu was digging into a corruption case involving the Housing Minister, Ittori, when his editor took him off that (a little problem called proof!) and onto the most boring story in the universe-reporting the visit to Hyogo of The Sunshine Prince, Hinata Shouyou. Little does he realise their meeting is going to change his life ...

There was no screech of brakes as the car careened towards him. Atsumu stared down the driver, his face whiplashing from the windscreen and then to the pavement as he was tumbled off his feet and pushed to the side. As if in slow motion, as if this were a movie, he watched the two figures on the ground, one unmoving, one screaming, and realised in horror that the car was sent to kill.

To kill him.

Drenched in sweat, Atsumu jerked awake, roused out of this most terrifying of nightmares and grabbed his phone.

It rang and rang, switched on to the answer mode, so he hung up and punched in the number again. “PICK UP, ‘SAMU! PICK UP!”

The phone clicked. A voice, unclear, shaking, but instantly recognisable. “’Tsumu, I can’t… it hurts… I’m … Rin’s … He’s… Help us.”

“SAMU, WHAT’S HAPPENED?”

For an age all he could hear were intermittent yells and sobs the sound of ghoulish excitement as people screamed and then another calmer voice spoke.

“Your brother can’t talk now. The ambulance is on its way.”

“Kita-san?”

“Yes. Stay where you are.”

“What’s happened?”

“I’ll call you back, Osamu…”

Huh?

“Osamu,” Kita continued, “your brother and Suna have been involved in a car accident.”

“Yeah, I know. Were you hurt too, Kita-san, cuz this is Atsumu.”

“Yes, Osamu, I know that. I must go now.”

The phone went dead. Atsumu blinked at it, waiting for another call.

It was sixteen minutes later when an unknown number reached him. He answered immediately, relieved but not surprised to hear the deputy editor Ojiro Aran speaking.

“This is a burner phone,” he began. “Make sure you use one yourself.”

“What’s going on?”

“Your brother and Suna were involved in a car accident,” Aran fired off. “Kita’s gone to the hospital to be with them.”

“I’m on my way,” Atsumu replied, already on his feet to pack a bag and sort out tickets.

“No, you’re to stay where you are. Kita’s orders.”

“That’s my brother in hospital. You can’t expect me t’ stay here!”

“They were after you!” Aran rasped.

“What?”

“It was a hit and run.”

 _Yeah, no brakes._ He sucked in his breath, feeling again a searing pain in his thigh.

“Atsumu are you listening? It’s imperative you understand.”

“To kill the case,” Atsumu stated, and ran his hand over his face.

“At the moment, they think they’ve done that. At least they’re fairly sure they’ve put both you and Suna in hospital, and killed not just the case but the story.” A pause. “He’s in a bad way.”

Suna, not ‘Samu, because if ‘Samu were close to death, Atsumu would know. He’d know as surely as he knew that right now his brother was raging in the ambulance, fully conscious and uninjured apart from his leg.

“How bad?”

“Can’t tell, but Kita said he wasn’t moving.”

“I can’t do _nothing_ , Aran-san. I should be in Hyogo working on the story.”

“Hey, leave the story to the seasoned pro for a change,” Aran replied. “You’ve got to lay low.”

“I c’n come home and do tha—”

“No!” Aran took a deep, deep breath and his voice lowered an octave. “Atsumu, something else happened tonight.”

“What?”

“We just got word that your apartment was broken into and trashed. Whoever it was did the same to Suna’s this afternoon, but he said nothing important was taken. Did you leave anything pertaining to the story at your place?”

“Some notebooks, but no one’ll be able to decipher them.” He thought carefully but the bunch of memory sticks were from old stories and nothing relevant to the Ittori case. “All the evidence we gathered is with the cops, Backup’s at the office.”

“Good. We’re doubling security there. And we need you to stay away until we can arrange police protection.”

“Police?”

“Sure. Why?”

“Aran, neither Suna nor I know how wide this corruption case has spread. A government minister is one tentacle, but he sure ain’t the only one. The way the case is dragging, we got to wondering if the Justice Minister is involved.”

“SHIT! And neither of you thought to tell us?”

“It’s why I’m here and not in Hyogo.”

“And who knows why you’re there?”

“Uh, no one ‘part from Suna.”

“Right. Fine,” Aran seethed. “I’ll sort it. But of all the irresponsible—”

“You’da done the same!”

“Shut up! Let me think.” He took a few more breaths and Atsumu could practically hear his brain ticking over as it went through every computation. “Okay … got it,” he said at last. “Keep out of sight. Don’t get in touch unless you have to, and don’t panic about any headlines.”

“Huh?”

“Shinsuke told me he called you Osamu, right?”

“Uh… yeah.”

“Which might mean we can keep up the pretence that they got their intended targets, right?”

“Sneaky.”

“Necessary. Just … don’t flaunt yourself, alright? Keep a hat on or buy a goddamn wig.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“Atsumu?”

“Mmm?”

“We’ll talk to your parents, but is there anyone else who should know you’re not at death’s door?”

Swallowing, Atsumu flopped back down on the side of the bed.

“You might have to stay hidden ‘til they charge him,” Aran continued.

“Uh, don’t worry ‘bout it. There’s no one else.”

“Be careful asking anyone for help, Atsumu-kun,” Aran warned. “You’ll have to be two hundred percent sure you can trust them, got that!”

“Yup. Don’t worry. I can take it from here,” he finished, a little wearily. “Say ‘Hi’ to ‘Samu for me, will ya?”

“Will do. Any message for Suna when he wakes?”

_When, not if._

“Yeah,” Atsumu muttered and cleared his throat. You can tell him to stop slackin’ off leaving me to do all the work.”

With a laugh, Aran hung up. Atsumu sat on his bed for around five more seconds then reached for his bag.

The problem as he saw it was that while he’d only arrived in Sendai six hours before, he had already begun to make some tentative enquiries from a source he had on the Miyagi police force. It had been brief, and he’d been cagey about why he was there, but he’d mentioned meeting up for a beer in a nearby bar, and he’d also taken a shufti at the Justice Minister’s home, so it was entirely possible he’d been spotted. With that in mind, he was going to check out, leave a wad of cash instead of using his card, and find another hotel.

As a car slowed, its headlights shining through a gap in the blind, he glanced out the window, half kicking himself for suspecting the worst, but then froze. There were two men getting out of the car, one headed into the hotel across the road and one going next door. The driver of the car didn’t move away, but stayed in the road, not even parked properly.

 _Okay, this might well be paranoia, but I ain’t taking a risk._ Shoving the rest of his belongings in his bag, he crept out of his room and headed for the back stairs.

The night porter was behind the desk, nose in a magazine as Atsumu slipped past and headed for the kitchens. With minimal staff on, he met no one face to face and shoved open the fire escape door which led to the alleyway. From there, with the crisp air on his face, he picked up his pace, clambered over a low wall and made it onto the main street. The car was still parked, but both passengers were heading into his hotel, one caught under lamplight, thin-faced and with cheekbones so sharp they could be classed as a lethal weapon. Aware both goons were probably carrying something deadlier than cheekbones, Atsumu pressed himself against the shop fronts inching his way along and cursing his shadow as he headed into the next road.

It was one in the morning. And if these goons were who he thought they were, they’d find out by ten past that he’d done a bunk. They’d check every hotel in the vicinity and then the ones that weren’t, so …

 _I’ll have to spend the night outside, but Jeez it’s cold! Or in a bus stop or …_ he smiled a little. _A club. I’ll find a club._

As he jogged, his breathing became easier, the adrenaline of flight leaving now he had a plan. He must have run for two k when he saw a large neon sign issuing a welcome to all passersby. And though it wasn’t a club, but a sports bar, it was open until four and he could closet himself in a corner with relative anonymity. He paid his entrance fee in cash, ordered a coke and sat in a booth where he could see the door.

A soccer game was on—he wasn’t sure where from, but there was a team in black and another in red, and he found himself cheering on the blacks even though they were losing three-nil. Underdogs, he sighed when the game ended, and drained his coke, ordering another and risking a brandy in this one.

“And in breaking news …”

He stared at the television, jerking forwards on seeing his face plastered on the screen along with Suna.

“News is coming in from Hyogo that leading journalists Suna Rintarou and Miya Atsumu have been involved in a car accident on leaving the office of the Inarizaki Herald.”

_How come I get second billing?_

“Both are said to be in a critical condition. The police aren’t commenting on a witness’ account that it was a hit and run.”

“Bet they were drunk.”

“Uh… what?” Atsumu stared up at the waitress bringing his drink.

“Journalists like a drink, don’t they? Bet they were drunk and fell into the road,” she continued, then sighed. “Shame, he’s really hot.”

“Who?”

“That dark haired one. Kinda mysterious.”

 _Fuckin’ asshole,_ Atsumu refrained from saying, and avoiding looking at her again, he accepted the drink and thanked his stars he’d kept his beanie pulled far over his hair.

Okay, so the story was out now, which might mean the heat was off him and the goons would believe he was in the hospital. Either way, anyone checking with the hospital would get the same message and maybe believe possible intel he was here to be flawed.

And then, just as he’d begun to unwind, letting the brandy warm him, his phone rang.

Not Kita. Not Aran. Not Gin. All of them would know not to call him now. He squinted at the number, and then felt his eyes actually widen in shock.

_Shouyou?_

His fingers twitched to answer, but instead he let the call play out before sending a hurried text.

<<Can’t speak rn. Call you on different number>>

<<You’re okay????>>

He turned off the phone, reached into his bag for his burner, then bashed in Shouyou’s number.

“Ats—”

He interrupted hurriedly. “If you’re not alone then call me something else, will ya?”

“I’m alone. How are you? What’s this all about? Are you badly hurt?”

“I’m absolutely fine,” he muttered angling himself away from the other booths. “It’s Osamu in the hospital.”

“So why are they saying… oh, it’s to do with the story.”

“Yeah, and I’ve got to hide away until they make an arrest.”

“Police protection?”

“Not exactly. I’m ... um … wary. Not sure who I can trust.”

Shouyou, or rather Prince Shouyou, to give him his correct title, had a reputation for naivety having been kept away from public life until he turned twenty-one. It was, Atsumu knew, an erroneous assumption and Shouyou grasped immediately what was going on.

“I can get to Hyogo in a few hours.”

“I’m not in Hyogo.”

“Okay, so where?”

And here’s where trust came in. Aware Aran would scowl, he took that leap because if he couldn’t trust Shouyou, then he figured he might as well give up now.

“I’m in Sendai, but I could get to Tokyo.”

“Sendai… that’s … fortuitous. I’ll send someone now.”

“You can do that?”

“I have people everywhere, Atsumu,” Prince Shouyou murmured. “And I know just the guy.”

“How will I know him?”

“You just will. Text me your location. Stay safe.”

“Uh ,,, yeah, sure,” he replied, a little dazed either at how quick this was moving or the fact he was hearing Shouyou’s voice again.

“And how’s your brother? The news reports are saying you … uh … he’s in critical condition.”

“He’ll be okay. It’s an exaggeration.”

“Good.”

He clicked off, leaving Atsumu to finish his drink. The waitress wandered by again, so he ordered a coffee and a bag of peanuts to her disgust and she left muttering about him being the last of the big spenders.

A group trooped in, shaking the rain off umbrellas. Foreign looking, American maybe, and Atsumu after watching them for a while settled back, vaguely amused when they tried to get the waiter to change the channel from soccer to baseball.

He didn’t know how long he’d be here, whether to order more coffee, because what if Shouyou’s reach wasn’t as long as he assumed. Maybe the guard or whatever he’d send would refuse to work at night, especially for a fledgling prince. Just because Tanaka and Nishinoya of the Crow Guard were enduringly loyal, it didn’t follow everyone else was. He was shifting uncomfortably in his seat, desperate for a piss after the drinks but unwilling to move when another waiter walked past and dropped a piece of paper on his table.

“Hey, you dropped—”

The waiter, a tall blond with glasses and a deadpan expression, side-eyed him. He looked at the paper, read one word and let out a sigh of relief.

 **Shrimpo**.

“May I get you something, sir,” murmured the waiter, peering down at him. “The bill, for instance.”

“I’ve paid.”

“In cash, I hope.”

“Yeah, I ain’t a dumbass.”

One eyebrow twitched. “I’m sure. Then perhaps you should leave. There’s an exit out the back.”

“I need a slash.”

“By slash, I take it you wish to avail yourself of the facilities.”

“Uh… yeah.”

“Then by all means use them,” the man said, sounding bored.

Atsumu was washing his hands when the door was flung open and Shouyou’s guardian raced in.

“Window, now,” he ordered grabbing Atsumu by his lapel.

“Whaaaat?”

“Two guys have turned up. I’m not sure about them.”

“Uh… why?”

“They’re not drinking.”

“I wasn’t drinking,” Atsumu protested. The window looked uncomfortably small, but he was already being heaved up to it. “Hey, slow down. They might be fine.”

“I don’t think so. And I’m in charge. Now, get through that window,” he said and shoved Atsumu again.

“Shit, I left my bag.” He was half out the window, his back scraping on the catch. “Ow.”

“Is it important?”

“YES! Laptop’s in it. And clothes.”

“Anything else? Anything identifying?”

“Uh, no. I have phones and wallet on me.”

“Right. I’ll fetch it. Drop down and wait for me by the dustbins.”

He wriggled out, contorting his body, then banged on the window. “I’m out.”

But the guard-agent-whoever he was didn’t answer, and peering through the frosted windows, Atsumu couldn’t see any sign he’d ever been there.

He sprinted for the waste bins, slowing his pace when he saw a car parked there. Not the silver one from outside his hotel, but a black car, smaller and with a different driver hunched over the wheel. He kept hidden, looking back over his shoulder, but still Shouyou’s guardian hadn’t appeared.

“Come on,” he muttered, warming his hands with his breath. “It can’t take that fucking long to pick up my bag.”

“It can,” drawled a voice, “when you need to rifle through it.”

The guard stood there with Atsumu’s laptop in his hand.

“Where’s my bag?”

“Too conspicuous. Fortunately your laptop is discreet—I’m guessing it’s a work one you haven’t had time to adorn with stickers yet—so I carried that out.”

“B-but my clothes!”

“I could hardly remove them and carry them out, could I? Get in the car.”

“Car? Oh … the black one.” He peered again and flinched seeing the driver staring back at him, the deepest scowl on his face. “You’re telling me he’s one of the good guys?”

“Kyoutani’s bark and bite are equally vicious,” the guard replied, and smiled … no, he smirked and gave a short bow. “I am Tsukishima.”

“Is that a code name?”

“No, my actual name. I’m not a spy,” he sighed. “Get in the car, Miya.”

“Where are we going?”

“Somewhere safe. Now. Get in the back and lie down. And turn your phone off.”

“Why?”

“For a journalist you’re not very sharp, are you?” Tsukishima replied. “They might have the capability to trace you from your phone. There’s also a silver car outside the bar. There are two men inside looking for you. And there’s a red car across the road which I think is back up, so I’d rather they didn’t see you. Kyoutani-san is an excellent driver, but it’s always good to leave quietly for the best start.”

Quietly... so quietly no one would ever know. “How do I know _you’re_ on the level?” Atsumu gulped.

“I gave you a password. How about another?” Tsukishima murmured. “My employer said something about climbing trees.”

He hissed out a breath, the last remaining doubt leaving his mind and with no further demur crawled into the back seat of the car and lay down.

“Let’s rock and roll,” growled the Kyoutani, revving up the car and letting his music rip.

“Oh, let’s not,” Tsukishima said and hit the off button.

“I like it,” Atsumu piped up.

“You are not here,” Tsukishima said witheringly.

“Two against one,” Kyoutani laughed. “Music stays!”

Despite the fast pace and thudding bass of the music, Kyoutani drove smoothly, even if his hands did thump on the steering wheel. After swerving out of the alleyway and turning into the high street, he took a few more turns through back roads with Tsukishima checking the mirrors and over his shoulder the entire time.

“You’ve lost them,” he murmured.

“There was someone following!” Atsumu yelped, jerking upright.

“The red car moved the same time we appeared. Might have been a coincidence. Whatever, they’re not near us now.”

“Yeah, I’m good at this. Don’t worry that pretty head o’ yours, Miya,” Kyoutani rasped. “Right, let’s head for them thar hills!”

“What?”

“Stay down, Miya.”

“Real hills or metaphorical,” he quizzed in reply.

“Mountains, actually,” Tsukishima said. “I hope you can ski.”

“Uh… nope. And you left all my clothes behind. I’m gonna freeze my ass off!”

“For someone who’s just had their life saved, you’re an ungrateful bastard, aren’t you?” Tsukishima said, and although his tone was mild, Atsumu could feel a chill from him and shuddered.

“Sorry.” He sniffed and rubbed at the bridge of his nose. “Think I’m still in shock. Like, I’ve been in dangerous situations before but never ones where I’ve had no control. Is … uh … Prin—”

“Our employer,” Kyoutani interrupted. “No names.”

“Is your _employer_ going to be in the mountains, too?”

“He hasn’t divulged his itinerary to us. Our instructions are to drive you there, that’s all.”

“Okay.” He settled back on the seat, trying to stretch his legs and prevent the cramp in his calf. “Uh, don’t s’pose you could tell me what’s happening in Hyogo, could ya?”

Tsukishima and Kyoutani exchanged looks, the latter giving a brief nod, and then Tsukishima twisted around to face Atsumu handing him a phone. “You can check on Kyoutani’s. Do not message anyone, not even if you think you’re being subtle. The unknown number will raise a red flag should it be intercepted.”

Nodding, Atsumu resisted the immediate temptation to text Osamu, instead flicking onto a news site. There was no addition to the story and as far as the mainstream media was aware it was Atsumu in a stable condition, while Suna’s condition was said to be critical.

Shit.

Osamu would be going out of his mind with worry. And he couldn’t be there to help, not even reassure him he was alive. And what sort of brother was he, not being there for his twin?

“I need to go back.”

“We are not returning for your damn clothes. You can buy more,” Tsukishima snapped.

“No, Hyogo. Drop me somewhere. I need t’ see my brother.”

Tsukishima didn’t reply and Kyoutani didn’t slow down. Both ignored him, both continued to chat to each other, neither paying Atsumu any attention.

“Did you hear me? I gotta go back! Tell the Prince—”

“Employer,” Tsukishima intoned.

“Tell Prince Shouyou,” Atsumu insisted, “I’m grateful but this ain’t right.”

“No can do. We have orders,” Kyoutani muttered.

“My brother needs me!” He wrenched at the door handle, his fingers slippy with sweat. “STOP THIS FUCKING CAR!”

“Your brother will be fine!” Tsukishima retorted, and twisted round, grabbing the phone from Atsumu. “We’re not the only operatives in the country, all right.”

“Okay, okay, but please, one call. I need to let him know I’m okay.”

“You cannot call him.”

“Text then.”

“Not on my phone,” Kyoutani snapped, and sped up. “Open road, what could be better… Hey, your brother has a restaurant, right?”

“Yeah, why? You hungry?”

“Always. But could you get a message to him that way?”

“It’s too risky,” Tsukishima said, unrelenting.

“No, no that’s a great idea!” He snatched the phone back, “I’ll be subtle, create a different account and leave him a message only he’ll understand.”

“Don’t be too cryptic,” Tsukishima warned, “it’ll alert them. In fact, I’ll do it!”

About to agree, Atsumu nonetheless flicked onto the ‘Onigiri Miya’ website to open up the comments section. He stared reading the last review, left barely thirty minutes before.

 _Food fit for princes! On my next visit, I’m gonna bring my friend who just loves your fatty tuna_. ~shrimpo

“No need,” Atsumu murmured. “Your employer thinks of everything.” He gnawed his lip. “But I’ll create an account anyway.”

“To say what?”

“Nuthin. Jus’ let me vote up the post.”

“Please tell me you’re using an alias,” Tsukishima replied.

“’Course.”

“And not TwinA.”

“Noooo.” He deleted the T he’d just typed. _Think, you idiot._ Nothing journalism related, or twin related, but something they’ll both understand. He grinned, completed his account, liked the comment and then handed the phone back.

“GraphicsGuy? Will they understand that? It’s not a sideline, is it? Because you can bet your life the guys after you will know that.”

“They’ll get it. And, nope, it’s not a sideline.” He grinned. “I can relax now. How ‘bout you turn up that music, Kyoutani-san!”

He’d been dozing in the back when they arrived, the sky dark but clear with stars sparkling and a sliver of a moon. Any other time and it would have been romantic, but Atsumu was frozen to his core, still tired, hungry and was about as romantically inclined towards Tsukishima and Kyoutani as he would be towards a cactus.

“We’re here,” Kyoutani said unnecessarily.

Atsumu reached for the door handle. “Can you unlock this now?”

“Need to check it out first,” Tsukishima replied, and in one swift, smooth movement, he alighted from the car and crept up to the house.

“We weren’t followed, were we?”

“Nope. I made sure of that. He’s following protocol,” Kyoutani replied, then turned and gave Atsumu the benefit of a rather snarling grin. “He won’t admit it, but Tsukki still thinks it’s cool bursting into a room and checking it’s empty. He’ll get his gun out and blow imaginary smoke off it soon.”

“What is this place?”

“It’s a lodge. Pretty much in the middle of nowhere, but secure as fuck. Security gates and all that sort of thing.”

“Does Prince … uh your employer own it? Sorry, I didn’t want to drag him into all of this.”

“Not on paper,” Kyoutani replied. “Look, if it’ll put your mind at ease, we had no idea you had a connection to him, so this friendship between the pair of you is pretty much as secret as it can be. If there’s a leak, it’ll come from your side.”

“Are you returning to Sendai now?”

“You are getting the VIP treatment, Miya-san. We’ve been told not to leave until the Crow Guard arrive.”

“Crow Guard?” The memory of Tanaka’s face leered in front of him, not altogether a reassuring sight and his wrist still hurt from where Nishinoya had restrained him.

“You look as if you have history with ‘em,” Kyoutani laughed.

“You could say that.”

“They’re good, you know,” Kyoutani continued. “I mean, I’ve butted heads with Tanaka a few times, but he’s sound. He’ll have your back.”

 _He has the Prince’s back, not sure ‘bout mine_. He shifted uneasily to a sitting position, pulled the blanket close around his shoulders, and glowered at the snow. _What I wouldn’t give for ‘Samu’s special hot chocolate right now_.

Tsukishima appeared shortly after, opened up Kyoutani’s door, and together they pulled a bag out of the trunk, and then let Atsumu out.

“How come you two get clothes and I don’t?” Atsumu grumbled. “I don’t even have pyjamas.”

“Is there no end to your tragic situation?” Tsukishima drawled.

“There’s a wardrobe full of clothes,” Kyoutani assured him.

“Don’t tell him that. I was _so_ looking forward to seeing him sulk for another five minutes.” He shouldered the bag. “House is clear and fires are lit. It’s quite cosy. Shall I take first watch?”

“Nope, I’m too wired and full of caffeine. You sleep and wake me later.”

The three of them walked across the snowy path and up to the lodge, Tsukishima twirling the keys between his fingers. He hadn’t exaggerated, there was a fire blazing as they entered as well as a tray laid with glasses and a decanter.

“You didn’t light this?” Atsumu muttered, warily checking the far corners of the room. “It’s been going a while.”

“Top marks for observation. There’s a … I suppose you might say a housekeeper, for want of a better word.”

“Who lives in?”

“No, she arrived around an hour before us, sent by you know who?”

“Are we still not allowed to say his name? The Prince ain’t Voldemort.”

“Force of habit. But a good habit to get into,” Tsukishima retorted. “Right, help yourself to a whisky if you want, and there’s a room in the mezzanine for you. Light’s already on.”

“Yeah I will.” He poured a drink, taking a quick slug, and walked to the narrow set of wooden stairs. Then aware Tsukishima and Kyoutani were still in the room checking sightlines out of the windows, he hesitated. “Uh, thanks, guys. I ‘preciate it.”

“It’s our job,” Tsukishima said, sounding bored.

“You’re a good travelling companion,” Kyoutani replied, shrugging.

With a last thank you, he trudged up to bed, exhaustion tearing at his limbs. He pushed open the door, prepared to collapse straight into bed, but hovered a while in the doorway, taking in his surroundings.

“Wow.”

He blinked, rubbed his eyes in case he was still in the car and dreaming, but, no, the room was bigger than his entire apartment. A large glass window across the wall, would, he presumed, give spectacular views of the mountains, but for now all he could make out were the stars silvering the sky. The ceiling of exposed beams sloped towards the outside wall, but was still high enough so he wouldn’t bump his head. With a large, western style bed, small sofa and tv, Atsumu felt as if he were in a continental hotel rather than someone’s home, but then, maybe it wasn’t a home at all, just somewhere the Prince visited, or let dignitaries use. There was a fire still burning in the grate, so despite his tiredness, he flopped onto the fireside chair, watching the flames as he drank his whisky. It didn’t feel as if it were thick with snow outside. In this room, it was as if he were living in a kotatsu, snug and warm despite the size.

“Who the heck needs pyjamas?” he murmured, and began to peel off his clothes, feeling honour bound to fold them onto the chair rather than leaving them strewn on the floor. He slid into the bed, hugged the sheets and thick duvet around him, sank his head into the large springy pillows and almost immediately fell asleep.

“Thanks, Shouyou,” he whispered, then sniffed. “Stay safe, ‘Samu. I’ll be back when I can.”


	2. The Housekeeper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Safe, at least for now, but what does the following day hold for Atsumu now he's in hiding?

He didn’t know how long he slept, there was no concept of time in his slumber punctuated between tortuous dreams of cars, a drench of sweat causing him to throw off the blankets and then sinking back into something deeper, restorative. Necessary. At one point he thought he woke to see a flash of lights, but hearing Kyoutani’s voice, he figured it was the pair of them switching roles, so he closed his eyes again drifted off into a far more pleasant reverie of drinking hot chocolate and sitting in a tree swinging his legs.

Should be an ice pop, he thought, but smiled at the memory before unconsciousness took him again.

The next time he woke, there was sunshine filtering through the curtains. He reached for his phone; arm still heavy with sleep, then gave up remembering it was on the chair with the rest of his things. His stomach rumbled, but he ignored it, not entirely sure whether there was a protocol to follow now regarding food and mealtimes. Besides, he could always use more sleep, get up when he was roused and not before. He yawned, ran his fingers through his hair and buried his face in the pillow again.

But now more than sunlight filtered into his room, an aroma seeped under the door to his nostrils, and his stomach began its protestation again. And he could hear more than voices and birdsong: a _tzin tzin_ of music, a low hubbub of voices and then the sound of a squeaking floorboard.

“I’ll knock first,” said a female voice. “It’s gone eleven; he has to get up soon.”

Do I?

_Ratatataaa_

Atsumu yawned loudly. “Uh, yeah, ‘m awake…. Almost.” He went to sit up; then remembering he wasn’t wearing a stitch of clothing, wrapped the sheet tightly across his chest.

He was about to warn the housekeeper, an elderly grandmother he imagined, but the door was already opening and a figure backing in with a tray.

“Good morning!” breezed a voice, and behind the figure with a tray a woman beamed at him as she held open the door. “Breakfast is served. We hear you like eggs. Where shall my assistant put the tray?”

Assistant? Wow. They needed two people to make breakfast for one person.

“I ain’t decent,” he warned, clutching the sheet tighter. “Uh, on the desk maybe. And, yeah, eggs is great.”

“Are great,” corrected the assistant, and putting the tray down, straightened up and faced him. “Hey there, ‘Ts-Tsumu, how are ya?”

“That’s the worst accent I’ve ever heard,” Atsumu said, gulping for breath, because there in front of him, with the widest smile he’d ever seen stood Shouyou, the Prince, his tree-climbing buddy, saviour and the last person he’d kissed all those months before.

“Good to see you too,” Shouyou laughed, a little shrill.

“Soooo, this is the journalist guy,” the housekeeper said, removing the cloche from the plate. A little older than him and with cropped blonde hair and decent line in tight jeans. She appeared entirely unfazed by his lack of pyjamas and also as she smirked, oddly familiar. “I’ll leave ya to it. Yell if you want anything, your Highness.”

“There’s enough for both of us,” Shouyou said, busying himself with dishing up the food. His hand shook, and some of the scrambled egg dropped on the desk blotter. “Uh, juice?”

“Please, but … uh … I can pour it. Um … Shou… Prince Shouyou, sit down. Are you okay?”

“J-just so relieved to see you,” the Prince mumbled. “You were out of range as soon as you hit the mountains. Before then I was getting updates from Tsukishima, but until I got here, I had no idea if you were safe.” He was clenching his hands, screwing up a napkin between his fists. His face was white, throwing the freckles into sharp relief, and there were dark circles, not there before, painting his eyes.

“Hey, I’m fine,” Atsumu reassured him. “Sit for a while.”

Needing no further bidding, Prince Shouyou stepped towards him, then sat on the other side of the bed and stretched out his hand. “Thank you.”

“I should be thanking you for sortin’ all this out,” Atsumu mumbled, and taking a breath he linked their fingers.

“I meant thank you for trusting me. It must be hard right now.”

“I know you’re one of the good guys. There’s not many I’d trust with my life right now, and you’re one of ‘em.”

The Prince shuffled over. “Who are the others?”

“Uh, Samu, obviously, Kita-san, Aran-san, Gin and—” He faltered

“Suna.”

“Yeah. I’m just … not sure if he’s …” He swallowed. “Capable of savin’ anyone.”

“How is he?”

“I don’t know. Last I heard was he was unconscious and critical, but then that’s all they’re releasing on the news and … Hey, you said you couldn’t track us, so is there no wifi?”

Shouyou squeezed his hand. “We’re connected, but you’ve got to be careful. I meant that you were out of range when you were travelling and then when I was in the helicopter. I usually like flying, but Tanaka wanted to strap me in twice I was so jumpy.” He leant closer. “I was so worried, felt so useless.”

“You’re not useless. You got me out. Tsukishima said there were three guys after me.” He wanted to stroke Shouyou’s face, take away the cares and woes with one sweep of his thumb, but just then his stomach rumbled even louder and the pair of them laughed.

“Breakfast!” Shouyou declared, leaping off the bed and back to the desk. “And you’re to eat it all or Saeko will scold us both!”

“Saeko—your housekeeper, right?”

“Um, sort of,” he finished spooning the eggs into a bowl, then poured two glasses of juice. “She likes to call herself an ‘arranger’.”

“That sounds …uh … sinister.”

“Ha … don’t ask. Do you want tea as well? And we could eat here by the window, if you’d prefer.”

“Mmm… uh … sorry, I’d help but … uh … I’m butt naked under this quilt.”

“Oh!” Shouyou’s tone changed, shaking a little but whether with laughter or horror, Atsumu wasn’t sure. “There should be a bath robe in the closet,” he said and turned his back.

Slithering out of the bed, feeling absurdly embarrassed, Atsumu stumbled towards the closet, stubbing his toe on the way. “OW!”

“What’s the matter?”

“It’s me bein’ a klutz,” he yelped, hopping around on one foot as he clutched his toe. “Jeez, I’m an idiot.”

“Is it bleeding? Your toe, I mean.”

“How do you know what I did? You ain’t supposed to be lookin’.”

The Prince giggled. “There’s a mirror here. I didn’t mean to look, but … uh … your reflection kind of sprang into view. I’ll close my eyes now… Promise!”

The pain subsiding, Atsumu wrenched open the door, found the bathrobe and wrapped it round his body.

“Any good?”

“Well it’s pink, which is cute and suits me, and short but I’ve got great legs, so it’s all cool,” he replied and sashayed over. “Japan’s next top model, am I right?”

“You know,” Shouyou replied. “With all the drama and intrigue, I’d forgotten what a clown you are, Atsumu-san.”

“Hey!” Atsumu flopped onto a chair then leant across and booped Shouyou on the nose. “I missed ya too, Shrimpo.”

His reflexes were sharp, grabbing Atsumu’s hand and holding it to his cheek. “Did you?” he muttered. “I heard you’ve been flying all over the world to break this story. I wasn’t sure you’d have time to remember the day we spent together.”

“A day that got me locked up. You think I’d forget that?” he joked, more than a little shaken out of his equilibrium. “And what about you, goin’ to your fancy banquets and state occasions? Makin yourself all popular. People love ya, y’know?”

“I was kept busy, but none of it felt real or important.” Shaking his head the Prince released Atsumu’s hand. “Not like making sure you were safe. Anyway, let’s eat or Saeko will—”

“Scold us,” Atsumu finished for him. “The eggs look great. Almost as good as yours.”

“They _are_ mine,” Shouyou said, giving a small half smile. “I still like to cook when I can.”

He ate. The eggs were good, hot and fluffy in his mouth. Not realising how hungry he was, Atsumu tucked in, and then slowed thinking of the picture he must present gobbling away like a pig – hardly the table manners fit for Royal circles.

“Had enough already?” Shouyou asked.

“No … uh savouring it.” He slurped his juice, spluttering as he swallowed too quick. “Jeez, I have the eating skills of a three year old. Sorry.”

“I’m sure your brother would tell you that cooks like to see their food appreciated.”

“Then I’m probably the most appreciative eater you’re ever gonna see,” he said, then shovelled more food in his mouth.

“So—” Shouyou began, when even Atsumu was sated, “—plans for today.”

“Oh-oh, you have some kinda schedule? Are ya opening a supermarket?”

“Ha, no. I’m thinking more of you. Do you need anything?”

“Clothes,” he replied, staring at the ones he’d left on the chair. “And somewhere to work. I take it I’m not allowed out.”

“You’re in hiding, so no.”

“Then I need to write up what I have.”

“This story is still ongoing then? I thought now Ittori was being officially investigated, you’d be onto the next thing?”

“Um, it’s all connected. More people involved than I originally thought. I mean it kinda makes sense. You don’t get one bad apple, do ya? After a while it makes the others mouldy.”

“And you can’t go to the police with this?”

He shook his head. “There’s still the chance the case won’t go to trial. And I ain’t too sure who I can trust.”

“Were you chasing a lead in Sendai?”

He nodded slowly. “’Nother cog in the wheel.” He drank some tea. “I saw your message. I’m sure ‘Samu’ll get it.”

“Oh … oh … he did! He replied. Of course you won’t have seen!” He pulled out a phone, handing it over.

_‘Tell your friend, I’ll always have fatty tuna for him, whenever you make it back here, so he can take his time. ’~OnigiriM_

And now the tears weren’t just starting in his eyes, but had welled and dropped. “Gah, ‘Samu. I’m so sorry ‘bout this. What have I got you into?” He sniffed, wiped his eyes with his sleeve then stared at the Prince. “They were after me. Must have thought Suna and me were leaving the office together. Take both of us out at one go. Suna …. uh … Suna pushed ‘Samu out the way.”

“I didn’t know that. Did he tell you?”

Shaking his head, Atsumu stared out of the window at the few snowflakes drifting in the air. Snow used to excite him as a kid, and even to this day he’d feel a childlike wonderment at winter, but now he wondered if he’d ever find beauty in anything again. “I felt it,” he muttered. “Like, we’re not as close as we were when we were kids, I mean … um … bonded, I guess, but important stuff, you know? I saw the car, heard the engine revving and speeding towards us.” He winced and rubbed his leg. “I felt the car glance off of me. ‘Samu got off lightly because Suna pushed him away.”

“Twin Telepathy? I’ve heard of that.”

“Mmm. It was more apparent when we were kids. Mum used to ask where ‘Samu was an’ I’d always know—stuff like that, but we drifted apart a bit as we got older.” He paused taking a sip of his tea as he thought back to their teen years. “Deliberate on ‘Samu’s part, maybe. He kinda wanted to be his own person, an’ thought he had to shut me out.”

“And you didn’t?”

“Uh… I guess I knew I already was my own person, or didn’t care.” Shrugging he swallowed more tea. “Last night, it was like I was there though.”

“And now?”

He rubbed his hip, feeling nothing, not even an ache. “He’s fine. At least, he’s telling me he’s okay.”

“There are no more updates,” Shouyou said, looking at his screen. “They’ve still not said it wasn’t you.”

“Which don’t really help as the bad guys are after me anyway. So, I need to go through notes, write up some stuff, then … uh … I’m all yours, Prince Shouyou.”

“Great, we can go skiing.”

Oh … “What a shame I’m not allowed to leave the lodge,” he replied swiftly.

“Ski slope’s near enough private and the Crow Guard’ll come along.”

“Ahh, sadly I have no clothes.”

“Saeko can find you salopettes and boots. She’s already on the case.”

“Oh… that’s … um … fortunate.”

“Tsukishima said you were more upset about leaving your bag behind than almost getting killed.”

“Yeah, I was kinda bratty.”

“He was _extra_ riled by you,” Prince Shouyou continued, pulling his face into a haughty scowl. But unable to keep it up, he laughed. “I find that’s a good sign. You’re on his radar now and it’ll be a matter of pride to make sure you stay safe.”

“Please tell me you ain’t assigning him to me permanently?”

“Ha … no. He’s gone back to Sendai. The Crow Guard are here.”

There was a knock at the door, Saeko entering to clear the breakfast things. Atsumu got to his feet. “I c’n do that,” he muttered.

“Not sure you should be doing anything in that robe, sweetie,” she joked, pointedly averting her eyes. “Unless you want the Prince to paint you like one of his French girls.”

He groped the robe shut. “Say what?”

“SAEKO!” Prince Shouyou shrieked, flustered now.

She waved her hand. “Ah, don’t mind me. And don’t worry about the dishes. I left ya some clothes at the door. Bundle of things from my brother, which might fit.” She sounded dubious, eyeing him up and down “Or might not. You’re pretty tall. His Highness didn’t tell me that.”

“You bro… OH!” The light bulb pinged. “ _Tanaka_ Saeko?”

“You got it. I hear you fooled him pretty good when this one ran away,” she replied with a wink at the Prince.

“Not for long.” He grinned at her, liking the fact that for all the formality of being in effect a servant, she was friendly, familiar and a little bit cheeky.

“I wasn’t running away,” the Prince protested.

“What would you call it then?” she asked, eyes twinkling.

“A planned escape,” he replied, sounding arch. “A … sojourn?”

“A holiday in Hyogo. Well, ain’t that novel,” Atsumu laughed.

“Starting off on your motorbike, so I heard,” Saeko continued.

“Yeah, sleepin’ like a baby.”

“I will leave you both to laugh at me,” the Prince said, getting to his feet and tilting his head upwards, apparently haughty. “And meet you for skiing in an hour.”

“Uh… I have work to do.”

“Two hours? Three? Then back here for a late lunch. Don’t worry,” he said as he got to the door. “With goggles, salopettes and a hat, no one will recognise either of us.” He tilted his head. “You do want to ski, don’t you? Tsukishima said you were really keen.”

Tsukishima … of course. Grinding his teeth, Atsumu didn’t know how he managed a smile. But then how hard could it be? He could see himself now, picking it up with no problems and effortlessly sweeping down the steepest runs. “Yeah, sure. And two hours is fine.”

After a shower, he switched on the news as a counterpoint to getting dressed. Tanaka was shorter than him, so the trousers and sleeves weren’t right, but they just about fitted across his chest and weren’t too tight on the waist or ass.

He was on a local news channel, so switched to find a national one, then sat on the edge of the bed, waiting for the presenter to stop discussing the sports.

“An update on the big story of yesterday, and the journalist Suna Rintarou, victim of what’s believed to be a hit and run, has had his condition updated to critical but stable.”

Huffing out his cheeks, Atsumu began to relax.

“The other news for this morning is that the identity of the second victim was not Miya Atsumu, as believed, but his twin brother Osamu—owner of Onigiri Miya.”

_Hey you got a name-check, Samu!_

“The whereabouts of Atsumu is not known according to this interview with his editor earlier this morning.”

The report flashed to Kita standing solemnly outside the offices of the Herald, in front of the taped-off area.

“Our thoughts are with Suna’s family through this difficult time. He’s a much respected, well-liked colleague.”

“Were you surprised to hear it wasn’t Miya Atsumu with him?”

“I didn’t make an assumption either way,” Kita replied carefully.

“And will Atsumu be visiting his brother?”

“You would have to ask him that. But Osamu is due to be discharged, so that isn’t necessary.”

_Thank the gods for that. I knew you’d be fine. ‘Samu!_

“People say he’s disappeared.”

Kita stared at the reporter, stared right down his nose and into her eyes. It was a disconcerting stare, one Atsumu had been on the end of many times, and he wasn’t surprised to see her flinch.

“Do they?” he asked ultra politely.

“Do you know where he is?” asked another reporter when she started coughing.

“It’s nearly ten, so I suspect he’s having breakfast somewhere,” Kita said, and looked directly into the camera. “He’s on vacation, but we’re not on the sort of terms where he divulges his exact location, and I’d rather not know.”

“Do the police think the burglaries at Suna’s and Miya’s apartments are connected to the hit and run?”

_Ohhhhhh_

“You would have to ask them that,” Kita replied. “It is not for me to speculate.”

“Was anything of value taken from their apartments?”

“Suna-kun was mainly annoyed at the mess his place was left in, but he hadn’t had the chance to fill in a police report. I haven’t had the liberty of speaking to Atsumu, so I cannot answer for him,” Kita said, rather suavely.

Was Suna’s work safe? He kept backups. He was meticulous about it.

The news rolled onto the next story, but he kept it on while writing up his notes, the background noise helping him hone his brain onto the bigger story unfolding on his page.

He’d tossed a coin with Suna over who’d go to Sendai. If he’d not called it, Suna would currently be hiding from goons and he’d be in a hospital bed. There was no escaping that. Fate had divided them, sending them on vastly different paths.

_Maybe I’ll break my neck skiing and we’ll be even_.

Working steadily, he plotted the links between Ittori and Yashimoto, the Justice Minister. There was nothing on the surface apart from government to connect them, but it was Ginjima Hitoshi, a Herald photographer, who’d seen Yashimoto in Hyogo and had almost lazily snapped him on his phone getting into a car belonging to Ittori. And that could have been explained away, except that the next day Ginjima’s phone was stolen and the Justice Minister denied he’d visited.

Which naturally caused Atsumu’s hackles to rise, because what was the point in denying the visit when a dozen innocent explanations could have been given.

Stretching his arms, he rolled his shoulders heard the cricks unknot and heaved out a slow breath. Hearing a knock on the door, he called for whoever to enter, and half expecting the Prince, he fixed what he hoped was his most charming smile on his face.

“Hey there, gorgeous. That smile for me?” Saeko asked. She strolled inside the room, another bundle of clothing in her arms. “Salopettes and stuff.”

“Ah, right. Is it time yet?”

“Hum, the Prince isn’t quite ready.” She peered at him. “You look like a condemned man. You know you don’t hafta go.”

“Naw, do me good to clear my head.”

“What’s the story, or can’t you say?”

“Maybe best if I don’t.”

“But the reason you’re in hiding is because of it, right?”

“Mmm.”

“Look, Miya-kun, if you’re looking for someone to trust, I know people.”

“What sort of people?” he asked, not really listening because he was staring at the salopettes in horror. They clearly didn’t belong to her brother, but someone much, _much_ taller.

“People I’d trust not just with my life but the Prince’s.”

“Yeah… uh … not sure who I want to involve at this stage.” He held up the clothes. “Whose are these?”

“Oh, this total sweetie pie called Hyakuzawa. He’s been on guard detail a few times.”

“Is he a giant?”

“Yeah,” she replied. “But a gentle one. Anyway, I’ll leave you to get ready, but don’t forget about my offer.”

“Thanks,” he muttered. “I’ll think about it. Just … the cops know most of it, and yet I’m here and not investigating in Sendai, or eatin’ my brother’s onigiri.”

“Ah, I get it.”

She left, closing the door softly and left Atsumu staring at the clothes she’d left behind.

For now came the more immediate problem, and one which would totally let Ittori, Yashimoto and any rogue cops off the hook—

Atsumu couldn’t ski. He’d never skied in his life. He’d never had any inclination to learn and hadn’t had to. Skiing was for other people—not him. Suna probably skied, with all the calculating daring he possessed. He had a feeling Ginjima would throw himself down the slopes with abandon. Kita-san would no doubt prove himself proficient.

Not only could he not ski, he also couldn’t admit that fact and lose face in front of not just Prince Shouyou but the Crow Guard, who would laugh their heads off.

His insides curdled.

_How am I still breathing?_

Here he was, Miya Atsumu—Investigative Journalist Extraordinaire—novice skier about to face death—a very cold and icy death—on the slopes of Sendai.

“Bye, ‘Samu. It was good while it lasted.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Apologies for the lack of Tsukki--he's probably saving other waifs and strays in his most disdainful manner.


	3. The Skier (ish)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And now ... they ski. What could possibly go wrong?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, hey heyyyy. There might ... just might ... be a bit of scandalous snowball fun in this chapter.

Whoever Hyakuzawa was, he was not only a head taller than Atsumu, but several kilos heavier. The salopettes swamped him, although he figured he could tuck them into the boots, or socks or whatever these guys did. Wearing a sweater under a lurid green jacket, he zipped up, posed in front of the mirror and tried to persuade himself he was an Olympian. With a hat and goggles, the picture was almost complete and he clumped down the stairs to where Shouyou was waiting. Tanaka and Nishinoya were by his side, both looking like pro-skiers, and with varying degrees of ‘wtf’ on their faces as he tripped over his foot and lurched forwards.

Nishonoya caught him, yanking him up with an arm under his shoulders. “Not sure lime green’s your colour, Miya. You look like an unripe banana.”

“Better make sure I don’t split then,” he joked.

No one laughed, but then the Prince was strapping his feet into enormous boots and Tanaka was striding over with a sky blue pair in his hands. “How come you guys get to look cool in black?” Atsumu complained.

“Because we _are_ cool,” Nishinoya replied. “It’s a qualification for the job.”

“That so?”

“Not really,” Shouyou piped up. “They become cooler working for me.” He flashed Atsumu a meltingly wide smile. “You look dashing, Atsumu.”

“And you look … uh …” He looked Shouyou up and down, taking in the bright orange suit with black side panels. “Tangeriney?”

“You could have said ‘flaming’ or ‘hot’.”

“Your highness, we should go,” Tanaka interrupted. “Miya, put your boots on and we’ll sort out the skis outside.”

Oh … right. Mountains and stuff.

Then Shouyou chuckled and gave him a wink, and all Atsumu’s doubts on the advisability of this activity disappeared like a melting snowflake. He grinned back, pulled a woolly hat over his head and adjusted his goggles. And borrowing a phrase from Kyoutani, he strode (as best he could) to the door, saying, “Let’s rock and roll!”

“Not too much rolling and rocking,” Nishinoya replied. “Don’t want to cause an avalanche.”

Avalanche. His stomach clenched. No, he was kidding. That wouldn’t happen. There was no way in hell this pair would let the Prince ski in dangerous conditions. He could breathe again.

Collecting skis and poles, Atsumu trudged across the snow next to Shouyou, with Nishinoya in front and Tanaka behind, and together they headed up the path and towards what Atsumu could now make out was a ski lift, stretching further up the mountain path towards the peak.

“How good a skier are you?” the Prince asked. “Black runs?”

Even he knew that was the badass route. “No,” he said. “And I’ve not skied for a while, so … uh … more um … grey.”

“Grey? I don’t know that classification. Look, we’ll tackle something easier today, see how you go.”

Feeling his hands begin to sweat, he clenched them into balls. “Don’t want to ruin your fun,” he muttered.

“You won’t. Tanaka and Nishinoya hate the black runs, too.”

“We hate you doing them because you throw yourself at them and hurtle down recklessly!” Tanaka grumbled. “Noya, how’s the lift looking?”

“Not busy. We’re good to go,” he replied, waiting by a gap in the fence.

It was colder higher up, yet for some unaccountable reason, Atsumu could feel his face flushing, sweat beading on his brow and a tightening in his feet as the boots appeared to clamp down even harder. Trying to keep his breathing even, he whistled out a breath, then gulped as his head began to spin.

None of them noticed, not even Shouyou who was closest. Instead he was chattering excitedly with Nishinoya, a pace or two ahead, while Tanaka was catching up, watching out for any dangers, but also smiling at the sight of the mountain.

_Oh, shiiit it’s so damn high._

He watched the ski lift swooping slowly down to the ground, empty chairs skirting the air before them.

“It don’t stop,” he muttered, watching as a couple ahead of them waited to get scooped up.

“Huh?” Tanaka was at his shoulder.

“Nuthin’.” Okay, it was a matter of timing, but … how did you get off. Did you jump off from a height? With skis on? What if he landed badly and his legs twisted and impaled himself on a ski? Or a pole—they were sharp. _This is insane. Who the high heck would—_

“Right, you two get on, and I’ll sit with Atsumu,” Shouyou was saying.

“We should split up,” Tanaka was saying.

“There’s no one else around. You two take the first lift so you can check out the summit and we’ll be in the very next chair,” Shouyou replied, and glanced across at Atsumu. “You okay?”

_WHO THE HELL WOULD BE OKAY!_

“Yeah, cool,” he said shrugging. He raised his hand, more to see if he could stop it shaking that anything, and waved to Tanaka. “Yeah, you guys go ahead. “We’ll get the next one.”

They grumbled but complied, muttering threats on pain of death if ‘his highness’ didn’t follow one straight away, and Shouyou laughed watching them go, then slipped his hand under Atsumu’s arm.

“You’re not okay, are you?”

He considered bravado, bluffing this out, and switching on his most shit-eating smile as reassurance. But the empty chair was coming around and although it was slow, it seemed to Atsumu as if it were hurtling straight at him.

“I ain’t ever skied before,” he wailed. “The boots hurt. I feel too hot, my hands are slippin’ and shaking so much I don’t think I can hold these sticks. And what’s with them. They’re so fricking spindly, but there’s that sharp bit and what … what if I land on the skis and get one stuck or I trip and— People break their fuckin’ limbs doin’ this. Their NECKS and you think this is FUN!”

A snowball hit him in the face. He cleared it, and saw Shouyou in front of him, face tilted to the side and hands on his hips. “You don’t have to do this. We can go back, you know.”

“But you want to ski!”

“Well, yes, but I can do that another time. Atsumu, I’ve not seen you for months. Not spoken to you either, so really what I’d like is for us to spend some time together.”

“HEYYY!!!” Tanaka yelled. “GET ON THE LIFT!”

“We’re going back to the lodge,” Prince Shouyou called out.

“YOU CAN’T WITHOUT US!”

“WATCH ME!” he laughed, and tightening his grip on Atsumu’s arm, he walked them back to the path. “Come on, let’s get you home. I think you might have altitude sickness.”

“Really? You mean I ain’t a wimp.”

“You are allowed to not like or not want to do something, Atsumu.”

They took it slow going back down the snow trodden path, with the Prince reminding Atsumu intermittently to breathe, or stopping because he wanted to admire the view.

“I’m okay, y’know,” Atsumu mumbled.

“You have some colour back in your cheeks. I thought you were going to faint.”

“Heights,” Atsumu said. “You know what I’m like.” Wincing, he continued to stomp down the path, his hand grazing the top of the stone wall, aware the Prince was still glancing his way with concern. “How d’you put up with these clumpy boots?”

The Prince had stopped by the lodge gate, then opening of he gestured for Atsumu to go through first. “They’re probably on too tight, or else your socks are too thick. Try loosening them.”

Obeying, Atsumu bent down unclipped the top of his boot and felt a modicum of feeling return to his calf. He peered up at Shouyou. “Hey, you threw a snowball at me!”

“Thought it was better than slapping you round the face. And it was funny.”

“Like you could reach,” he scoffed and then the devil took hold, and gathering up a fistful of the powdery snow, he flung it at Shouyou, laughing when it landed straight in his face.

“AGHH!”

“Now, that’s funny,” Atsumu replied and gathered up more snow in his arms.

“Oh … ohhhh, this means war!” Shouyou yelled, and grabbing some snow, he moulded it into a ball, hurling it into Atsumu’s face.

He dodged, fell to the side and in doing so chucked more snow into the air, a flurry surrounding the prince, who flinched and fell backwards windmilling his arms in a desperate attempt to remain upright. To no avail, and he landed with a flump on a mound of snow.

“Ahhh, ow, aghhh,” he whimpered. “I can’t move, Atsumu. Help me up.”

“You’re kidding me, right?”

“No… no … I must have landed on something. Like a log or a rock. It hurts. Help me up.”

_Shit I’ve paralysed the Prince. He’s protecting me and I’ve broken him._

“Don’t move. I’ll get help. You shouldn’t move,” he husked, crouching by Shouyou’s rigid body.

“No.” Shouyou’s hand grasped his arm, and he let out an unearthly groan. “Don’t leave. Don’t…go …” And then he tugged Atsumu closer before flipping himself over and forcing Atsumu on his back. “ANYWHERE!” he shrieked, and then began to pick up handfuls of snow stuffing it down his jacket, smushing it into his face, until Atsumu was yelping in hysteria, cold biting at his skin, but laughter warming him from the inside.

“This ain’t fair!” he bellowed, arching his back in an attempt to dislodge Shouyou. But he’d attached himself, limpet-like, to Atsumu’s jacket and as each tried to gain the upperhand, they found themselves rolling in the snow, like a couple of somersaulting acrobats.

“Why isn’t it fair? Because now we’re on the ground height doesn’t matter?” the Prince retorted.

“No because I’m expectin’ half a dozen guards, or even worse your ‘arranger’ to burst to your rescue and strongarm me to jail!”

“Oh.” Shouyou slithered off him collapsing in the snow, then stared at him. There were red frostbitten splodges on his face and his eyebrows were encrusted with snow, but he looked much as he had all those months before, wide eyed and not quite comprehending the unsheltered world. “Sorry.”

Atsumu nudged him, then in one swift movement sat astride him, holding his arms above his head. “SIKE!” he yelled. “Let them try! I got ya, your highness and now it’s PAYBACK!”

“NO NOOOOOOOO,” Shouyou shrieked and tried to buck him off. But they were both weak with laughter now and although Shouyou wriggled his hands free, neither of them could gain the remotest ascendency.

His lips were blue. Not the dark red of summer, and the freckles had faded in the harsher winter light. Atsumu’s breath hitched in his throat because despite the cold, the snow, the clouds threatening overhead, he was catapulted back to a hotter day, sitting together under a tree.

“Hey,” the Prince murmured. “Are you okay? You look … um … lost.”

“Memories. Shouldn’t dwell on them, I guess,” he muttered, and went to lever himself up to standing.

But one of Shouyou’s hands was furling around his jacket, and the other had reached out to touch his cheek. “We could dwell together,” he mumbled and edged closer, his lips parting.

It wasn’t wise. But then aiding an escaped Prince hadn’t been wise, and he was in a profession where sagacity was often left at the gate while he charged on regardless.

He responded, feeling at first the ice chip of the prince’s lips before the warmth of his mouth and tongue melted him too. So unlike summer, and yet, the memory flooded back and the familiarity, the feeling of how right it felt having Shouyou in his arms kissing him back had him basking in sunshine again.

“An alleyway, a tree and now a roll in the snow. You take me to the best places, Atsumu.”

“Mmm, I wish.” Atsumu broke away, but traced the Prince’s lips with his fingertips.

“Where would you like to go if you could right now?”

“With you, somewhere hot and sunny. Not luxurious, but private. You’d have to cook though. And you?”

Shouyou clutched his hand and raised it to his lips. “Would quite like to eat your brother’s onigiri again. Normal stuff, like that.” He sniffed, then let out a long sigh. “Why didn’t you contact me?”

Blinking at the abrupt change of tack, Atsumu sat up, hauling Prince Shouyou with him. “I thought about it, but it felt better to leave you alone. I went to Brazil pretty soon after, you know. Suna and I chased up your lead on Ittori and … uh … he got beaten up—badly. And now he’s been run over. I’m a dangerous person to know.” He inhaled, felt the ice cold in his lungs and it sparked a revival and end to the vagaries of his mood. “You coulda got in touch yourself, Shrimpo!”

“Would you have replied?”

“Disregard a message from a Prince? Don’t that amount to treason?”

He didn’t laugh, but relinquished Atsumu’s hand as he got to his feet. “And that’s the trouble. You’d have replied because of what I am and not who.”

“Actually,” Atsumu replied, and wrapped his arms around him from the back, resting his chin on his shoulder. “I’d have ignored ya. What do I need with a guy whose idea of fun is walkin’ around in ugly boots while his body turns into a an icecube?”

He was rewarded with a giggle, a slight turn of the head and then a fleeting kiss on his lips. “You’re a clown.”

“And a popsicle. Seriously, I’m freezing my ass off here. Can we go inside?”

They’d barely got through the front door before Saeko was clucking over them. Half-relieved, half mightily pissed, she ensured they sat in front of the fire while she lectured both of them on staying safe, all the while punching a message in her phone.

“To Ryuu,” she explained, sounding waspish. “Don’t scare him like that. You know he gets worked up when you do a flit.”

“Saeko, it was a ten minute walk and no one recognised me.”

“And he had me,” Atsumu put in.

She scowled. “And that’s what I’m afraid of.” Then she groaned. “You both look perkier, anyway. But lunch won’t be ready for a while. I was banking on you being out a lot longer.”

“That’s fine,” the Prince replied. “We need to shower and change, anyway.”

“And I could get on with more work,” Atsumu said, stifling a yawn. “Or nap.”

“Nap? It’s daytime, Granddad!” Shouyou teased.

“It’s winter. I should be hibernatin’.”

“How about you get changed and Saeko fixes us some hot chocolate? It’s truly glorious and she has a secret stash of marshmallows.”

“Sounds beautiful,” Atsumu stood up, ruffled Shouyou’s hair and then climbed the stairs to his bedroom. He stepped out of the hated lime green salopettes, but as a courtesy folded them up, along with the jacket, and dropped the rest of his clothes on the pile.

Saeko had laid out more clothes for him, borrowed togs from Tanaka, he thought, but although he discarded the jeans as too short and little tight on the butt, he settled into a pair of jogging bottoms, a sloppy tee and a bulky jumper.

“Hey,” said Shouyou tapping on the door. “I bring hot chocolate.”

“Oooh, room service,” he said, wandering over to open the door. Shouyou was carrying a tray with two large mugs topped not just with marshmallows but piped cream. “Wow, that looks good. I feel like I’m eight again and staying with Granny.”

“May I join you? Or are you going to sleep?”

“I’m not that tired. Come on in.”

“Good…” He set the tray on the small table by the sofa, then handed one to Atsumu. A large mug with a long spoon, which Atsumu removed it, then sat on the sofa and took a sip. Shouyou sat too, legs curled up under himself and gave him a small, but ridiculously cute smile.

Which didn’t fade.

“What are you finding so amusing, your Highness?”

“I was thinking how sweet you looked with a splodge of cream on your nose.” Using his spoon, he licked the cream and scooped up some marshmallows.

“You can’t take me anywhere, right?”

“Not sure I want to,” the Prince replied. “Uh … that came out wrong.”

Atsumu peeped at him, trying to sound casual. “I’d disgrace you with my table manners, is that it?”

“I think you’d make an interesting guest, and your manners are just fine. I’d rather not go anywhere right now, that’s what I meant.”

“So smooth.”

“Hmm, more … um … How’s your ‘ass’?”

Gulping at the drink, which went down the wrong way, Atsumu spluttered and coughed, spraying a marshmallow onto the floor. “Say what?”

“The reason we didn’t stay outside,” the Prince said, picking up a napkin, “was because you said, and I quote ‘I’m freezin’ my ass off’ and you were a ‘popsicle’. Sooooo, have you warmed up yet?”

He guessed Shouyou was used to getting what he wanted. Not that it made him bratty or spoilt, but there was an assumption he’d at least be listened to, not ignored, and maybe that’s where the confidence came from. That and the fact Atsumu could feel his face flaming.

“Are you um wanting to continue with the … um …”

“Smooching?” Shouyou suggested. “Might be nice.”

“See what it’s like inside for a change,” Atsumu joked, a little too loudly.

“We should compare. For science. So far, it’s been pretty good, one might say awesome, but then again what if—” he raised his hand to his face, “—what if the inside smooching is appalling? Maybe we shouldn’t risk it?” he whispered, all the while inching closer.

“Or maybe,” Atsumu replied. “We jus’ need a lot more practise.”

His eyes closed, he felt Shouyou rather than saw, felt his lips, sweet tasting and warm, petal on to his, and he settled back, shifting his hands to Shouyou’s waist. It was different now. Not a whim, a snatched goodbye, or a means of disguise, nor a reaction to cold and closeness. This was a moment sought for, slowly executed as indulgent as the rich chocolate they’d been drinking. He shifted a little, laying fully on the couch and let his lips drift to Shouyou’s neck, gratified at hearing a gasp and a low moan.

“This is nice,” he murmured, nuzzling his ear. “I could get used to this.”

“Mmm, me too,” Shouyou replied. “It’s good to just be us two.”

He resumed kissing Atsumu, cupping his face in his hands, almost feverish in his attentions, while Atsumu trailed his palm to Shouyou’s waist.

There’d been times where he’d wondered what would have happened if the Prince hadn’t returned so abruptly to his royal world, if the original plan of one more night spent at Atsumu’s flat would have propelled them towards something more. Sometimes he refused to dwell on the ‘what could have beens’, but occasionally, usually during the early hours, he’d given himself up to the fantasy of the Prince sharing his bed, hair tousled, face flushing and the minutest of breathy moans escaping from his lips. A dream—not one he thought he’d ever make a reality—and yet he’d repressed it often because the stark truth of his life was that he and Shouyou could not be.

And he kinda wished he was repressing it now because currently two things were happening: his cock was responding far too eagerly and embarrassingly to having Shouyou splayed on top of him, and his heart was thumping so hard, he could swear it was someone banging on the door.

“Miya!”

It _was_ someone banging on the door.

“What?”

“Ssshhhh, it’s Saeko…” Shouyou whispered, and slid his hands under Atsumu’s jumper. “If you ignore her, she’ll go away.”

“MIYA!” Saeko shouted. “Are you in there?”

“Nooo, sleepy,” he said, a little bemused but smirking when Shouyou started to giggle and buried his head in his shoulder.

“IT’S IMPORTANT!”

“Uh…. What is?”

“Turn on the news!”

Prince Shouyou stopped laughing, levering himself away. “Come in, Saeko,” he called out, sitting primly with his hot chocolate.

She burst in, didn’t bat an eyelid on seeing the Prince there, then scrambled for the remote. “It’s your office,” she said, before the TV could flare into life. “The Inarizaki Herald offices. They’ve been—”

The picture told the story. Smoke billowing out of smashed windows, flames leaping as they searched for air, and sirens blaring.

“Petrol bombed,” Saeko finished. “Someone sure as hell wants to stop your story.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Atsumu's experience skiing is plucked exactly from my own experience when I tried but failed to get on the ski lift and ... yeah ... never again.


	4. The Editor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Being a spectator rather than a participant has never felt so wrong. But what can Atsumu do when the Herald offices are petrol bombed when he's stuck in the mountains of Sendai.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big Yikes in the last chapter, so what's Atsumu going to do?

It was as if he were facing the car again—the pressure encroaching—but this time it wasn’t a car but the walls of the lodge imploding, while he grasped for solid ground, for fresh air.

Shouyou took his hand. “It’s okay.”

Platitudes, even from a Prince were still platitudes. He disengaged, staring as the news reel played over and over in a perpetual loop, of the smoke and the flames and a figure being stretchered out.

_That’s Gin_ , he’d said. _That’s ‘Toshi._

He ran his hand over his face. “It’s very far from okay,” he said wearily. “Where’s my phone?”

“You can’t call them,” Saeko said. “You can’t do anything right now.”

“The office has been petrol bombed, my friend has been hospitalised, you’re telling me I gotta stay here! And you won’t even let me call them!”

“You could be traced!”

“I have a burner phone.”

“Is it new?”

“Uh, practically,” he told her. “Used it to call the Prince.”

“Still risky.”

“You have to stay safe,” Prince Shouyou insisted, and took his hand again. “Atsumu, I know it’s hard, but if they stop you and Suna-san then that’s the story gone.”

“FUCK THE STORY!”

“You don’t mean that,” he said softly, gripping harder. “This is the reason you push yourself, and have been working at this for nearly a year.”

“Suna and Gin are in hospital. Bustin’ Ittori’s not worth that,” he snapped. “Give me my phone, Saeko!”

She shook her head, then flicked her gaze to the Prince, who gave a small nod.

“We’ll use mine,” Shouyou said. “But I’ll make the call.”

“Right, well, ‘Samu’s number is—”

“Not him,” Saeko put in. “It has to be someone the Prince could reasonably be asked to call—just in case phone records are checked.”

The Prince was already scrolling through his contacts. Atsumu watched on as he sat forward on the sofa, and to his eyes, the Prince now looked older, responsibility resting on his shoulders. The phone rang, three times, and then …

“Kita Shinsuke. This is Prince Shouyou. I understand this is a difficult time for you and that you may not be in a position to talk right now, but—”

“I can talk, Your Highness,” Kita replied, his voice distinct if faint. “I am alone and outside.”

“I’m switching to speaker,” Shouyou told him. “There’s a familiar voice here for you.”

“I hoped as much,” Kita replied, now blaring into the room. “You’re not causing too much trouble, I hope.”

“Uh, you know me,” Atsumu rasped, a lump blocking his throat. “How’s Gin?”

“Smoke inhalation and some burns to his hands. It looked worse on the news.”

“Promise?”

“Atsumu-kun, in all the years you’ve known me, when have I ever soft-soaped anything to you? He will be fine and is expected to make a full recovery.”

The shuddering sigh left his body audibly, but he tensed again when Kita resumed his narrative.

“However, it wasn’t a petrol bomb thrown through the window, as we initially thought, but someone left a small incendiary device at your desk.”

“Shit!”

“It’s been obliterated.”

“ _Shit!_ ”

“I take it something important was in there.”

“Memory stick taped to the underside of the drawer.” He raked a hand through his hair, took a couple of breaths before continuing. “Suna’s got a copy.”

“He can’t speak yet,” Kita replied, soberly. “He told us before the accident that they found nothing at his apartment, but where he kept his backups is somewhere only he can tell us. Atsumu … you have to stay safe to protect the story.”

“Yeah, I get it. Have you seen ‘Samu?”

“Aran picked him up from the hospital. He’s on crutches, but says it’s more precautionary.”

“He’s back at work, I bet.”

“Yes, you Miyas certainly have a strong work ethic.”

“An’ I should be in Hyogo working, Kita-san.”

“Atsumu, there is nothing you can do here. Relax for your sake as much as anyone else’s. You’ve been away barely twenty-four hours.”

“I could help ‘Samu.”

At that Kita laughed. “You think he’d let you, with your track record! You burn tofu.”

“Hey, that was one time! Come on, I’ll be far more use in Hyogo.”

“Do you think this is a way of drawing their fire?” Kita enquired, evoking a sharp indrawn breath from Shouyou and a hiss from Saeko as Atsumu stared at his hands. “I take it that’s a yes. Atsumu, if you won’t think of your own safety then please think of Osamu. He’s worried enough about Suna-kun, and does not need to be fretting about you as well.”

“Sure.”

“Don’t sulk. I bet he’s pouting, isn’t he?”

“He’s scowling,” Prince Shouyou replied. “Kita-san, thank you so much. We’ll keep him safe for you all.”

“Thank you,” Kita finished. “Atsumu, we’ll see you as soon as is humanly possible, but for now take care and behave yourself.”

“Yes, mom,” he mumbled, flushing what was probably a hideous shade of puce.

Kita said a last goodbye and the phone went dead. Getting to his feet, Atsumu paced around the room, stopping at the window to press his nose against the glass pane. “I should go.”

“Atsumu?”

“It was me that started all o’ this, your highness, but everyone else is caught in the crossfire.”

“No.”

“They know I was in Sendai. What’s to say they don’t know who Tsukishima and Kyoutani’s client is? If I’m right, they have contacts in the police force, so who knows how far up this goes?”

“You mentioned Ittori. Is this the corruption case?” Saeko clicked her tongue. “Don’t look so surprised, I hear things, ya know!”

“Mmm. I … uh … we have the story as ran an investigation but can’t write it up til he;s charged and the trial’s over.”

“And you were in Sendai looking into another story, or the same one?” she enquired.

He blinked, wondering about her, but Shouyou trusted Saeko so … “Yeah,” he breathed. “We suspect the Justice Minister is involved.”

“And that’s why you don’t trust the cops.”

“Not the ones in Hyogo. I don’t know about Sendai. I was going to meet a source but had to run away instead.”

“It’s not running away,” Shouyou chided.

“I could make enquiries,” Saeko said. “Like you, I have sources.”

“It’s … I need to think about it all,” Atsumu replied. “Get all the facts in place and see where to go next. I have no _proof_ Yashimoto’s involved, just hearsay he visited Hyogo and the fact the case against Ittori is dragging. Can you … uh … hold it for now?”

“Sure,” she replied, flashing him a smile. “Your Highness, if you’re done with me, I’ll leave you boys and get on with food.”

She left. Atsumu resumed his contemplation of what was beyond the windowpane, watching the wind ruffle snow decked trees. Peace. And yet who knew the turmoil of the earth when it melted with the spring sunshine?

“Atsumu?”

Osamu and he had built a snowman once, then argued over whose idea it was, so after that they’d built them separately, then came to blows over whose was the best. Granny’s soup had thawed them through and returned them to good spirits. He could practically taste it now.

“Atsumu.”

“Hmm?”

“Would you like me to stay?”

“Uh… what?”

“You’re lost somewhere. Would you rather be alone?”

“Thinkin’ ‘bout ‘Samu,” he murmured.

“You want to go back,” Prince Shouyou stated.

“Yeah, but I know that’s impossible. Don’t worry, I’m not about to do a flit. But being logical can’t stop me worrying. My apartment was trashed, office blown up so I figure the memory stick’s gone. I hate not having control, y’know.”

“But you have your laptop, and copies on there, yes?”

“Uh … some of it…” Trailing off, he thought about Suna’s way of working. “Suna was kinda paranoid about his laptop fallin’ into the wrong hands. I don’t mean a rival journalist stealing a story, but the bad guys discoverin’ sources and stuff, so he had a habit of saving his work, then deleting parts of it. Housekeeping, Suna called it. And I guess that rubbed off on me.”

“The police have copies, don’t they? Isn’t that how they’re building their case?”

“Like I said, the case is dragging. We thought he’d have been charged by now, which is why I weren’t exactly surprised to learn Yashimoto could be involved, because it feels like someone’s applyin’ pressure.” He licked his lips. “It’s not unknown for evidence to get lost, either. Gahd, I hate this!”

“You’re forgetting your biggest asset.”

“Yeah, we still haven’t recovered Suna’s memory stick. They haven’t got that yet.”

“I meant you,” Shouyou said, and tapped him on the head. “Your brain, your memory of the story. It’s all up there; you need to write it down again.”

“You’re a harder taskmaster than Kita-san, you know that,” he grumbled, but left the window and the gloom cloud which had begun to encroach dissipated as he thought of the task ahead.

“So, shall I leave you to your thoughts and your laptop?”

“Might be a good idea.” He offered a half smile, hoping he didn’t sound rude. “You’re kinda distracting.”

“Because I’m a Prince?” he asked, downcast and eyes mournful.

“No, because you’re a really good kisser.” He glanced at him, noticing Shouyou was smirking even as he peeped under his lashes. “You totally fished for that!”

“I’m sneaky like that,” he laughed and hotfooted it to the door. “I’ll let you know when lunch is, unless you’d like a tray in your room. That can be arranged.”

“Nope, I’ll join y’all. Otherwise Tanaka and Nishinoya will assume I’m hidin’.” He snorted. “Hidin’ while hidin’, how much more can I do?”

“Stop.”

“Sorry. Jus’ every so often it kinda sweeps over me. I can’t help out. Suna’s unconscious, ‘Toshi’s now injured and ‘Samu … ‘Samu’s on crutches and that might not be the end of it.”

“He’ll be okay,” Shouyou replied. “I’ll sort out extra protection for him.”

“He’ll hate that. Besides, won’t it draw attention to his place havin’ a couple of Kyoutanis standing guard?”

“They’ll be subtler than that. Trust me?”

“Of course.” He swallowed. “Have I said Thank you?”

“You have. Now, try and get on with your work. It’s a good way of trying to get back control, I always think.”

“Talking of work … I know I was takin’ the piss asking about you opening supermarkets, but have you had t’ cancel anything?”

“Nothing important, I promise you. I have some papers to read, which I can do that here. There’s a state visit next month, so I want to be prepared, but this was a free week.”

“And what would you have been doing?”

“Getting bored at the palace. Or … I was half thinking about paying an incognito visit to a certain newspaper journalist.” He frowned a little. “Wow, I’d have turned up to find you in Sendai.”

“I’d have got the next train back,” Atsumu replied. “And met you at ‘Samu’s.” He winked, and then sat back at the desk. “I should get on with this. So… see ya later?”

As Shouyou left, Atsumu squared his shoulders and booted up his laptop. If Suna didn’t make a full recovery and his back up wasn’t recovered, then this all hinged on him, and as much as he was worried about the guys in Hyogo, it was right to focus on the story.

The rest of the day and then the next passed in much the same way. Atsumu worked, sustained by delicious meals from Saeko. The Prince ate breakfast with him in his room, then went off to ski or to catch up on his own work.

The news from Hyogo was that Suna was making progress and Ginjima had had a comfortable night. The Herald offices were still taped off and undergoing forensic analysis, but the paper rolled off the presses as usual, using stories Atsumu had filed before he left and a large editorial written by Kita on freedom of the press. Aran had covered the news about the Herald journalists, the eloquence in his writing packing a powerful punch.

After supper that second evening, Atsumu and the Prince sat together downstairs while the others patrolled. He was relaxing now, content with his lot, because even if his fears couldn’t be completely assuaged, he had assurances from Osamu’s website that things were fine, and no one else had been hurt.

When he switched on the television, Kita was being doorstopped by the regional channel, and the journalist he’d successfully stared down before thrusting a microphone at him. All of which he took in good part, recognising he was the face of this story.

“Kita-san, are you able to tell us the whereabouts of Miya Atsumu?”

“No comment,” he replied.

“Or why Miya Osamu was at the Herald offices?”

“He’d discovered his brother’s apartment had been broken into, and came to inform us.”

“Is that all?”

“What else would it be?” Kita replied, unblinking.

“How close is he to the Herald staff?” she persisted.

“Holy shit! Is she trying to put a target on his back?” Atsumu exploded.

“His brother works for the Herald and we have been known to eat his onigiri, which I must say are excellent,” Kita replied.

“So his being at the Herald office when the accident occurred was a coincidence?”

“What’s she getting at now?”

“His being involved in the ‘accident’ as you call it was largely down to his similarity to his twin,” Kita retorted. “The driver no doubt assumed he was Atsumu.”

“Have the police told you that?”

“The police are still looking into it,” Kita said. His eyes narrowed, the beam in them intensifying as he stared at her. “Why do you ask?”

“My sources tell me Atsumu’s in hiding.”

“If someone’s trying to kill you, wouldn’t you stay away?”

“My source also tells me that Atsumu had a stormy relationship with Suna Rintarou.”

“Professional rivalry. It’s healthy.”

“That can spill into jealousy,” she continued. “I’ve been told he was furious that Suna-san was getting the bigger stories?”

“WHAT THE FUCK IS SHE GETTING AT?”

“Shhh, listen to Kita-san,” Shouyou whispered, his hand on Atsumu’s shoulder to pull him back to the sofa.

“Is your source a crime writer, Nakamura-kun?” Kita asked, tilting his head to the side. “Only your questions have a flavour of fiction around them which doesn't pertain to the facts at all.”

“Don’t you think Atsumu should turn himself in?”

“Turn himself in?” Kita clicked his tongue. “Criminals do that, not victims.”

“The police could protect him if he’s innocent.”

“That sounds almost like slander. You should watch that,” Kita replied, and started to walk away, pushing his way past her and the camera operator. “I have every confidence in all my staff, and shouldn’t have to comment to you on their whereabouts, but I will tell you that at the time of the hit and run—no it wasn’t an accident—and when the office was _bombed_ , Atsumu wasn’t in the vicinity.”

“But you can’t tell us where he was, so why should we believe you?”

“No, I _won’t_ tell you where he was. That’s the difference. Now, we have a journalist and a photographer in hospital, which means we’re rather stretched, so some of us have work to do. Goodbye.”

He stared at the screen, watching as the news programme cut away from the reporter, the camera following Kita to his car.

“What the fuck was that? They’re implicatin’ me!”

“Looks like it,” Saeko said and whistled.

He hadn’t heard her come in, but looking over his shoulder he saw she was accompanied by both Tanaka and Nishinoya, both glowering at the television.

“Cheer up,” Nishinoya chirped.

“Why?” he asked sourly.

“You’ve got the best alibi,” Nishinoya replied. “When the office was being petrol bombed, you were freakin’ out over a ski lift.”

He ignored the barb. “It was a device left there. They’ll prob’ly say I planted it to take out every journalist I rate,” he muttered.

“Detonators don’t work that far away,” Saeko said, and whacked him on the head. “Stop being defeatist. You’ve got us in your corner.”

He sniffed and rubbed his nose. “Sorry, I kinda forget who I’m with. Thanks, guys.”

Shouyou’s hand crept into his, giving him a squeeze. He glanced at him, noticing Shouyou’s eyes were glistening and he was swallowing rather hard, so despite the audience he shuffled across the sofa and gave him a hug. “Not sure I could bear this without you,” he murmured and kissed his cheek.

There were murmurings behind them, Nishinoya and Tanaka still not quite sure how to take this interloper with their Prince, but Saeko walked across to the drinks tray and carried it across to the table. She sat in one of the armchairs, staring at Atsumu as she poured five glasses of brandy.

“We need a plan,” she said. “That reporter isn’t making stuff up, but repeating what she’s been told. And as you said, she’s not only implicated you, but looks to have made things dangerous for your brother.”

“We could call the studio,” Prince Shouyou said. “Ask them to cool things down.”

“That only raises the question why you’re so interested,” Saeko replied. “However subtle you are, your interest in the case will set alarms off.”

“If I don’t do somethin’, then half the country is gonna believe I ran over Suna and my brother. Someone’ll dig up that they’re together and that’ll only make it worse for ‘Samu. Jee-sus, he’s a huge fuckin’ target!”

“They’re together?” Saeko asked and blinked at him. “Oh, that makes sense why he was there. Your editor covered that up well though.”

“He met Suna through me,” Atsumu grumbled. “But he is friends with a lot of the guys.”

“Okay, so three things need to be done. Remove you from suspicion, remove the target from your brothers back and get the case wrapped up against Ittori,” Saeko continued.

“Simple, huh!”

“What do you need to back up the case.”

“The case is solid, but the cops looking at it ain’t,” Atsumu replied. “Evidence we had from Brazil has disappeared. We both made copies, but mine’s gone. Until Suna wakes up, we can’t proceed.”

“You can.”

“Huh?” He looked across to Shouyou, nursing the brandy in his hands. He’d been silent during the exchange, not offering opinions or suggestions. “You mean by me writing it all down. They can dismiss that. My word against his.”

“I mean Yashimoto. Can’t you pursue that angle?”

“Not from here. I can’t access computer files or paper ones. All I have is suspicion, unless I can make enquiries like on my phone.”

“No.”

“C’mon, Saeko, it’s the only way I can do my job as you won’t let me leave!”

“You’ll be traced! I’m not letting you bring the bad guys to us!”

Prince Shouyou coughed. “Then why don’t we go to them?”

“What?” Saeko whipped to face him. “Tell me you’re not suggesting what I think you’re—“”

“ROAD TRIP!” Nishinoya yelled and fistbumped Tanaka.

“A royal visit no less,” Shouyou replied, not breaking eye contact with Saeko. “Find a charity event in Sendai I can attend, inform Yashimoto we’ll need to stay at his government mansion, and I’ll arrive with the Crow Guard and my new driver.”

“This is not going to happen!” Saeko spluttered, glaring at her brother and Nishinoya who were still whooping in the background. “Miya’s too recognisable!”

“Hair dye, dark glasses, a chauffeur’s uniform including hat and a mask,” the Prince replied.

“Hair dye? Uh … what?”

“Not black, because then you’ll remind everyone of Osamu, but how about plum?” Shouyou said and grinned.

“It’ll look foul.”

“Or we could shave it like Tanaka’s.”

“Eww, no.”

“He’s not cool enough to carry that off,” Tanaka muttered.

“Plum it is, but I ain’t letting this pair near my locks. Saeko’ll have to do it.”

“So, we’re on?”

Atsumu took his hand, raising it to his lips. “Only if you promise me you’ll keep out the way and out of any danger. Let ‘em believe your newbie driver’s gone rogue if I’m caught, a’right?”

“Hold it!” Slamming her hand on the table and causing the decanter to vibrate, Saeko glared at them all. “Before you start planning your big Indiana Jones excitement, I want it on record that I am not in favour of this.”

“There’s no record, Neesan,” Tanaka muttered.

“Are you saying you won’t help?” Prince Shouyou asked, sounding calm. “I can’t order you—not for this—but I would appreciate any help. If you can’t bring yourself to do that, then an assurance you won’t inform my father.”

“Your father? No, no, I’d never do that.” She slugged some more of the brandy and her smile twisted sulkily. “Of course I’ll help. You’ll get into a mess otherwise and I ain’t baling you out of jail.” Switching her attention to Atsumu, she gestured for him to stand up. “You can drive, right?”

“Yeah… I don’t own a car as ride a bike, but I’ve got a licence, and I drive ‘Samu’s van sometimes.”

“Great, we’re going to arrive looking like a bento box,” she muttered. “Specially on these roads!”

“It’s not really an issue, is it,” the Prince stated, sounding faintly imperious. “We can take the helicopter to Sendai. Atsumu can drive us from the helipad in a hire car. Or you can, and he’ll take over when we approach the residence.”

“Helicopter?” Atsumu put in, but was promptly ignored.

“You make this sound like some goddamned costume party!” Saeko protested.

The Prince stared at her, then got to his feet and walked across to the fire, poking at it with the metal tongs. “I won’t sit by and do nothing, not when my friend is in danger and corruption is rife,” he said. “I have this position by reason of birth, so maybe it’s about time I earned it.” The he cleared his throat and faced her again. “I’m taking this very seriously, I promise you.”

Despite her misgivings, Saeko did as she was asked and beyond. Not only did she manage to dye Atsumu’s hair a kind of cherry mahogany by zealous use of spray, which she assured Atsumu was temporary, she also sourced a heavily-characterised chauffeurs uniform, complete with hat and driving gloves.

He stared at his reflection in the mirror. “I still look like me—or rather Osamu,” he muttered. “Even with the hat.”

“I’ve not finished yet,” she said, and picked up a comb and razor.

“You’re not shavin’ it off.”

“Just the sideburns,” she assured him. “And I want to slick it back. It’ll change the whole shape of your face. Then, if you wear a mask and shades when driving, no one’ll guess.”

“Okay.” He put himself in her ministering hands, watching in the mirror as she fussed a little, twisting some of the hair forwards into a fringe before thinking better of it. “That it?” he asked, admiring himself from the side.

“Nope, because you can’t really wear shades inside, so …” She picked up a pair of tweezers.

“Suddenly I’m scared.”

“Eyebrows. Let’s define ‘em a bit, okay? Give you an arch.”

“OW!” he yelped and rubbed at his brow.

“Wow, and they say women are the weaker sex.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> There are eight chapters and it's complete, bar the editing, so ... hold onto your hats and enjoy because this one is fast paced!


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